I Can Be The One
by YouThinkYouNoeMe
Summary: Stacy begins to question the future of her forbidden relationship... Features Stacy Keibler, Shane McMahon, Chris Jericho, Dave Batista, Stephanie McMahon, maybe others.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: I Can Be The One**

Rating: -R-

Warnings: Sexual Content, Strong Language

Characters/Pairings: Shane McMahon-Stacy Keibler-Chris Jericho, Dave Batista-Stephanie McMahon, others?

Summary: Stacy begins to question the future of her relationship...

Notes: This story is a response to a challenge I received on my site, Double Reality. Credit for basic plot goes to Anissa. Title comes from the song 'Just the Guy to Do It' by Toby Keith. I'd really like to see your thoughts on this! Any and all reviews will be greatly appreciated.

**Chapter 1**  
A warm breeze whirled around her as she stared off the balcony and into the starry sky. She was so relieved that spring had finally arrived. She loved this type of weather. These days, it was the only thing that truly comforted her. Staring off into space was her only source of sanity. 

A soft sigh left her lips as she drew her legs up onto her chair, tucking her knees underneath her chin. A huge part of her was dying for someone to relate to, but she knew that was not happening. Hell, no one - not even him - even knew she was unhappy. Nothing upset Stacy Keibler, after all.

But the truth was that the elements of her life were more often than not causing her grief. Falling in love was not supposed to be this way. But the rules changed when the man you loved was married.

Stacy never considered herself to be the type for an affair. She was firmly opposed to cheating, and she wasn't a fan of relationships based on sex. But this was different. Somehow, she sat just outside his hotel room, nearly four years later. She had known for three years that he was married, but she couldn't leave. He needed her, much like she needed him.

Her sighs lessened to heavy exhales as she contemplated whether or not to go back inside. He was a heavy sleeper, so she doubted he would wake up. Not that he'd care about her being out there... she just preferred to do her thinking alone, undisturbed.

She often wondered how it got this far. It all happened so fast, sometimes she swore it was just a dream. It had to be. She felt as though she had only met him yesterday. A fond smile touched her lips as she remembered all the way back to their meeting.

_Summer 2001_  
_She couldn't remember a time in her life when she had been more nervous. The company officials yanked Torrie away from her only seconds after their arrival, pulling her in a separate direction from who - at the moment - was the only person she knew. They brought her to the creative team, who took one look at her and decided they wanted to use her on television that night. From there, they handed her an itinerary full of tasks she had to accomplish before the day was through._

_It was obvious that Stacy was overwhelmed. Things were never like this in WCW. Eric Bischoff had never heard of an itinerary._

_Six hours later, she was finally given a moment to rest. They showed her to a private locker room, but made it clear that after the night's show that would happen no more. Everyone shared locker rooms in the WWF. The moment the door closed, Stacy collapsed onto the couch. It was only her first day and she already felt like she'd been through a train wreck - and she had yet to even see a ring._

_She closed her eyes, praying that things would not always be this hectic. She hadn't even gotten a chance to eat._

_A loud knock on her door earned a groan from the leggy young woman. So much for down time. She rose from the couch and drug her tired body to the door. A yawn slipped from her mouth as she opened the door, but Stacy cut it short when she noticed who was standing before her._

_"Stacy Keibler," he said with a smile. "I'm glad to finally meet you. I'm..."_

_"I know who you are," she replied, extending her hand to him. She never claimed to be the smartest wrestling fan, but she knew a McMahon when she saw one. "It's very nice to meet you, Shane."_

_Shane boasted a smile as he accepted her hand shake. He watched as Stacy slipped aside, gesturing for him to enter. He politely nodded for her to go first, then pulled the door closed and followed behind her._

_"Ive been trying to get a hold of you all day," he told her as they grabbed seats across from one another. "You're a hard woman to track down."_

_Stacy frowned, hoping he wasn't upset. The last thing she needed was to get in trouble with a McMahon on her first day._

_"I'm sorry about that, but they've had me running all over the building all day," she said truthfully. "Is it always this crazy?"_

_Shane responded with a laugh._

_"Not usually," he said. "But things tend to get a littly busy when thirty new employees show up looking for TV time."_

_Stacy nodded in understanding. In her career she had always been told what to do, when to do it, and how long it was to be done. She couldn't imagine being in charge of all that planning. And since WWF had acquired all the WCW employees, the stress of planning a show had to increase tenfold._

_"So," she began when Shane didn't speak. "What did you come to see me for? I'm sure you've got other things to do."_

_A playful gleam lit up his eyes._

_"Can't a guy say hello?" he teased, flashing her another smile._

_Stacy shook her head with a sigh, "Boys."_

_"Alright, I can take a hint," Shane replied in retreat. "I just wanted to make sure you were good with our segment for tonight."_

_Stacy nodded in remembrance. One of the creative team members did tell her she'd be accompanying Shane to the ring that night, but their directions made her a little uneasy._

_"Well, actually, there was one thing..." she began, glancing up at him. Shane saw her expectant look, and he nodded for her to continue. "The guy who talked to me about the segment said something about me going out there and just improvising, and I..."_

_Shane placed his hand in the air, silencing her. The smile crept back onto his face as he noticed the adorable pout she wore. He couldn't get the smile off his face around her._

_"That just means you're going to be standing around for some time and they want you to look like you know what you're doing," he explained, and she was happy to hear that he didn't seem annoyed in the least. "Most of our fans don't know you, so market yourself to them. Look around at them, smile, pay attention to what I'm saying... you catch my drift?"_

_Relief soon washed away the uneasiness on Stacy's face. Those were directions she understood._

_"Oh, okay," she said with a sheepish giggle. "So nobody's going to hand me a microphone and say, 'You've got 5 minutes, go for it!', right?"_

_"Right," Shane confirmed with a nod. "You'll be getting involved in promos and angles soon enough, but for tonight, you're just coming to the ring on my arm. You job is to simply look pretty, which," he hesitated as he gave her a once over. "Well, I'm sure that comes naturally to you."_

_Stacy smiled at the compliment, sending him a gracious look. She eyed him wonderingly, studying his features closely. On TV she had never found him all that attractive, but that certainly was not the case now that she sat face to face with him. He had a very handsome face, and quite possibly the softest eyes she had ever seen._

_Once he was certain she knew what was going on, Shane rose from his seat. He really didn't want to go, but he had another meeting to be at in five minutes._

_"I'm sorry I can't stay," he told her, "but it was very nice to meet you, Stacy. I'll stop by to pick you up for our segment later."_

_"Thank you, Shane," Stacy replied, her cheeks reddening slightly as he winked at her. He was too cute._

_She didn't know much about Shane McMahon, but she could tell already that she would like working with him very much._

Things were so different then. How their relationship elevated so far from innocent flirting, she'd never understand. Stacy let out one final sigh before she rose, heading back into the hotel room. She watched him from the door for a moment, eyeing him wonderingly. Then, she made her way to the bed, very cautiously climbing in. She slid under the covers and nestled up against him. His arms unconsciously came to wrap around her, and she drifted to sleep in his familiar embrace.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thanks for the response for the first chapter! I'm glad to see that some of you are interested. Keep the reviews coming, I really appreciate them.**

  
**Chapter 2**  
Stacy turned around in the arena hallway, a wide grin spread across her face as she realized who was calling her name. She ran over to him, tossing her arms around him in a hug. 

"Hey, Chris!" she said cheerily.

Over the years, Chris Irvine had become one of her best friends. They had very similar outlooks on life… and the man could make her laugh till her sides hurt.

"Come join me in the catering room," Chris replied, wrapping an arm around her waist. "Food is beckoning me."

"I can always go for food," Stacy replied, laughing as she heartily patted her stomach.

Chris always made fun of her eating habits. He often wondered how she stayed so thin, when the woman consumed more food in a day then he did in three. He winked at her, and then moved his hand from around her waist.

He linked his arm with hers, and they strolled into the catering room. Not a moment later, a voice boomed at them from across the room.

"Yo, Jerky! Get your ass over here!"

Both Chris and Stacy turned to see Dave Batista waving them over to the otherwise empty table, where he sat with Stephanie McMahon. Chris pointed out the table, placing a hand on the small of Stacy's back as he led her over to them.

The pair took a seat opposite of Dave and Stephanie, Chris and Stacy's respective best friends. They exchanged hellos, and then Chris stood again.

"What do you want?" he asked Stacy, pointing at the table of food located across the room.

Stacy eyed the selection, licking her lips as she sent Chris a look of disbelief.

"Oh, right," he said with a knowing smile. "Everything."

Stacy nodded, a satisfied smirk twisting the corners of her lips. She waved Chris off, and then returned her gaze to Dave and Stephanie.

"So, what's eatin' ya, Keibs?" Dave didn't hesitate to ask.

She sent him a confused look.

"What?" she questioned, folding her hands and placing them on the table.

"When Steph asked you about comin' out with us last night, you said were weren't feeling too hot," he explained, which Stephanie confirmed with a nod.

"Oh, that?" Stacy asked with a slightly nervous smile. "I was just tired. I had a really long day, and I didn't think getting drunk at a bar would be the best idea."

Though she had been speaking to Dave, Stacy's wary eyes stared directly at Stephanie. Four years had passed, and Stephanie was clueless. She told her stories of Shane's wife, Marissa, and how her and Shane made the most adorable couple and had the perfect marriage. Little did she know, Shane was having an affair with, of all people, her own best friend.

Lying wasn't so easy anymore. For a while it had become second nature to the blonde woman. Pretending she was sleeping or at an appearance when she was actually out with Shane was a piece of cake. But guilt was slowly starting to consume her, and it made the lying almost unbearable.

Not to mention paranoid. She had changed Shane's name in her cell phone, but even that didn't calm her fears. She doubted anyone believed she was on the phone with Torrie that much.

"Well, don't make a habit of it," Stephanie warned her, pointing a finger her way, drawing Stacy from her thoughts. "Chris is extremely annoying when you're not around to distract him."

"Just goes to show that you are no fun, Princess," Chris said in distaste as he returned to the table, a plate in each hand. Stephanie blushed just slightly. "You and your fuckin' boyfriend are the worst company in the world."

Dave pretended to scowl, but his efforts were diminished with laughter. Am amused grin was plastered on his face as Chris placed a packed plate in front of Stacy, then sat down with his own.

"Someone's very jealous," he replied with a grin, tossing his arm around Stephanie's shoulder.

He frowned a moment later when a crouton, picked from Stephanie's salad, pelted him on the nose.

"What were you saying about me bein' jealous?" Chris asked, grin now spread across his own face.

Stacy eyed her plate hungrily, and it was a matter of seconds before she dug into her food. The four ate in silence, until Stacy's cell phone interrupted. She pulled it from the waist of her jeans and eyed the screen: Torrie cell. She bit her lip and glanced at the other three, who were watching her expectantly. Suddenly, her appetite was sucked from her. She tentatively rose from the table, pushing her plate towards Chris.

"Hang on to that for me. I gotta go take this call," she instructed, waving a quick goodbye.

"You're gonna leave us with this shithead again? – Hey, watch it!" she heard Dave tell as he was hit with another piece of food.

Stacy shook her head in amusement, hoping that her exit would not be the cause of a food fight. The smile faded when she rounded a corner, glancing around to make sure it was clear before answering her call.

"Hey, Shane," she said quietly, settling back against the wall.

"Hi cutie," he relied, causing her to smile. "You left early this mornin', baby."

Stacy sighed, closing her eyes, "I know, Shane. I had a meeting with your dad around eight."

Great, now she was lying to him, too. The cycle seemed to be never ending. She had no meeting with Vince, but she knew Shane would never ask his father if she had been with him. She just had to get out of that hotel and try and get her mind off of things.

"That's too bad," he murmured. "Guess you'll have to come early tonight, make up for lost time."

The smile found its way to her lips again. The man was insatiable, which was just fine with her. Not many men could match her stamina.

"I'm sure I can arrange that," she promised in an alluring tone.

"You have a very seductive voice, baby," he told her. "Had me from day one. Remember the first time we hung out, just the two of us?"

There was a pause on both ends of the line, and Stacy nodded fondly. She remembered that night like it was yesterday. That night had been the start of it all.  
_

* * *

"You have the most beautiful eyes – anyone ever tell you that?" Shane said to her as Stacy laughed at his previous comment._

She stopped laughing, but the grin still stretched across her face. They were back in the hotel after having some drinks together at a local bar. Shane insisted on walking Stacy to her room, even though he was staying five floors beneath her. The leggy blonde was touched by his charm and kindness. He certainly made her transition to the WWF much easier.

"You know, I really don't get that much. I guess most people are wrapped up in the legs," she told him.

Shane smiled at her as he hooked his arm through hers. He knew she meant for her comment to be innocent, but he couldn't look at it that way. Whether she intended it or not, he happily picked up the innuendo.

He gazed down at her trademark legs, giving her an appreciative nod. He knew he should have refrained from staring her down, but at the moment he couldn't help it. She was too beautiful.

"That voice, too," he commented with a wink. "Everything about you is pretty damn beautiful, Miss Keibler."

Stacy chewed on her lip thoughtfully as they reached her room, trying to think of something to say to him in response.

"Thanks for everything," she settled on after a long pause. "I had a really good time tonight."

Shane watched as she leaned towards him, her lips pursed together. He knew she was going to kiss his cheek, but he couldn't fight the urge to kiss her back. It was wrong and he was fully aware of it. But for some reason, he just didn't care.

Just as her lips grazed his cheek, he turned his head and pressed his lips on hers. One little kiss wouldn't change anything, right?


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I'm glad some of you are liking this story! I have to admit, I'm more into it than I thought I'd be. Please keep reviewing, your response means a lot! )**

**Chapter 3**  
_One little kiss. That was it, and then he would go back to his hotel room and forget all about it. No harm done. That's what he told himself, at least. He started to believe otherwise when he found himself inside Stacy's hotel room. What had started as a sweet kiss escalated into a passionate lip-lock, and once she slipped her hotel room door open, Shane knew there was no turning back._

_Stacy slammed her door shut as quickly as she had opened it, pressing her back against the cold metal as she tossed her arms around his neck. Shane pressed his body up against hers, his hands dropping to her waist. He gripped her hips tightly as their searing kiss went on, his tongue swirling around hers. Stacy moaned into his mouth, but broke the kiss a second later. Her arms still locked around his neck, she stared intensely into his eyes, her breathing heavy. Shane took a moment to catch his breath, and then he sent her an anticipatory gaze._

"_Are you…" he started, his hands wrapping around to her back._

_Stacy nodded, a smile playing on her lips as she kissed him again. She brushed her fingers through the short hairs on the back of his neck, and then tossed her head back with a sigh as his lips moved to her earlobe. _

_Shane dragged his tongue along her jaw line, his hands fumbling with the bottom hem of her t-shirt. Stacy jumped at the electricity that shocked through her body when his fingers slipped underneath and came in contact with her skin. He allowed his hands to guide the thin material of the shirt up and over her head, and then he dropped it to the floor. His hands went for the button of her jeans, while hers played with the button at the top of his shirt. She paused mid-task, lifting her feet up as her jeans pooled around her ankles. She kicked them aside and continued unbuttoning his shirt. His shirt was on the floor in less than a minute, and his jeans even quicker._

_A moan escaped Stacy's lips when Shane ran his finger over a lace-encased nipple, only to replace it with his tongue. She locked her lips, throwing her head back against the door. She hadn't had such lustful feelings since before she broke up with David Flair._

_It was clear in Shane's clouded eyes that his desire matched hers, and he didn't waste another moment. He unhooked and pulled her bra off, then slid his hands down her body and slowly pulled her soaked thong down her long, gorgeous legs. Before standing, Shane dug through his jeans, pulling out his wallet and snatched the condom that he'd left in the back for emergencies. Stacy Keibler was emergency enough. He grabbed it, holding it in his hand as he rose from the floor. Without a word, he hoisted Stacy's naked body in his arms, carrying her to the bed._

_He fell to the mattress on top of her, planting kisses wherever he saw skin as he hastily kicked his boxers off and rolled the condom over his hardened erection. Stacy wrapped her legs tightly around his waist, grinding her center against his groin as she begged him to enter her. Shane did not protest, gripping one of her legs as he easily slid into her._

"_Ohh, Shane," she gasped as he filled her._

_It took just a moment for her to adjust, and then she was bucking her hips to match the movements of his. Stacy dug her nails into the sheets as he thrust in and out of her, a pleasured groan coming from Shane each time he reentered her. He lost himself in their heated passion, the sounds of her screaming his name making his own eyes roll back in his head…_

"Jesus, Stace," he grunted as he rolled off of her, pulling her into his arms. "I swear you're gonna kill me one day."

Stacy simply smiled, as she was still fighting to catch her breath. She clung to Shane, burying her sweaty forehead into his collarbone. Four years later, and the sex was _still_ amazing. She had always thought that sort of thing was impossible. But Shane proved the theory to be wrong time and time again. It truly was like their first time, every time.

"Please don't die on me," she laughed, flashing him that smile that had always kept him coming back for more. "I don't know if I'll ever find a man who can do that to me like you can."

Shane winked proudly at her, holding her tighter. He stared down into her eyes, admiring her in silence. He pressed his lips to hers, kissing her deeply. Stacy sighed happily, returning his kiss with an equal fervor.

Shane pulled away a minute later, resting his head against hers as he whispered, "I love you."

Her stomach jumped at his words. He'd said them before, several times, but her reaction never lessened. The butterflies were always there. She smiled softly, pressing her lips to his again. She placed her hands on each side of his face, gazing at him wonderingly.

It was moments like this that made her stay. When they laid in bed, tangled in sheets and each other's arms, nothing else mattered. When Shane whispered softly in her ear after making love to her, no one else mattered. There were no friends, no family, no wives to answer to. They were the only to people in the world when they were hidden in his hotel room.

"I love you too, Shane," she sighed, her head resting on his shoulder. "Way too much."

Stacy closed her eyes, her lids growing heavy. She allowed herself to drift to sleep… one final solace before reality would crash in on them once again.

* * *

Stacy was awoken in a different way than usual the next morning. Instead of Shane kissing her on the cheek and telling her to rise and shine, her cell phone blared through her ear drum. She groaned, shifting under the blankets as she stared at the alarm clock through bloodshot eyes. 8:30 on her day off. Someone had a death wish. She flopped her arm onto the nightstand, feeling around for her cell phone. Once she grabbed it, she flipped it open, not bothering to see who it was.

"No one I know would call at this hour," she griped, rubbing her free hand over her tired eys.

"Good morning, Sunshine!" Chris called cheerily into her ear. "C'mon, you're sleeping the day away!"

Stacy huffed, "You better had a damn good reason for waking me up, Jericho."

She yawned, cradling the phone on her shoulder as she stretched her arms above her head. She tossed a glance in Shane's direction, noticing that he had begun to move.

"Of course there's good reason. You think I'd call you for fun?" he teased in a mock-offended tone. "I thought the bottomless pit that is your stomach would want some breakfast. Your turn to buy."

Stacy snickered at the triumphant manner in which his comment was spoken, and then she gasped. The two of them went out for breakfast once a month. It was their little way of spending time together and getting a decent meal at the same time.

"Oh no, I totally forgot that was today!" she admitted, her voice laced with guilt. "Give me twenty minutes and I'll be ready to go."

"No rush," he told her, his voice turning serious. "I'm on my way in from the gym anyway, I'll just come to your room and wait there."

"No!" she cried, her eyes widening. She took a deep breath, frowning as Shane looked up at her. They both knew she hated lying. "I mean, if you come here first, I'll never be ready. You're a distraction."

Chris shrugged off Stacy's random outburst, laughing, "Fine. Come get me when you're done. Room 1770. Wear something see-through."

"Watch it…" she warned, smile returning to her lips. She glanced down at Shane, shaking her head.

"All right, all right… everything but the see-through clothes," he gave in with a dramatic sigh.

"See ya soon," Stacy told him before hanging up.

She drug herself out of bed, heading to the bathroom to freshen up. True to her word, she emerged ready to go in just under twenty minutes. On her way out the door, Stacy stopped in the bedroom of the suite, where Shane was still lounging in bed. She leaned over the edge of the bed, crawling over to the Shane. He wrapped his arms around her waist as she kissed him.

"You've been spendin' a lot of time with Chris lately," he observed, smiling as he inhaled the scent of the perfume he'd bought for her.

"Says the married man," she quipped. "You've been spending a lot of time in Manhattan."

"Touche," he retreated, letting go of her. He hated when she brought up his marriage. "You burned me, baby."

Stacy giggled, planting one last kiss on his cheek before lifting herself off of him.

"You'll live," she teased as she headed for the door.

Shane smiled and called after her, "So, since Chris gets to take you to breakfast, do I at least get lunch later?"

Stacy paused in the doorway, turning to face him. She grinned, patting her stomach.

"I could really go for a cheeseburger," she said.

Shane watched as she waved goodbye and stepped out of the bedroom. He smiled to himself as he watched those long legs carry her out of his suite.

"Who said anything about food?"


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I'm SO glad you guys are getting into this story. You have no idea what it does for motivation. Thanks so much for the reviews, keep them coming!**

**Chapter 4**  
She wasn't eating. That was the one thing that Chris noticed about Stacy while they sat in a local diner. If it were any other woman, he'd think nothing of it. But this was Stacy. On their monthly breakfast together, she almost always out-ate him. For a regular woman, it would be normal. But for Stacy to leave a plate of food untouched, something had to be wrong. She could try and disguise it with smiles and laughter, but the lonely eggs on her plate proved otherwise.

He watched her push her food back and forth. The sound of her fork scratching across the plate screeched directly into his brain.

"You realize if you don't stop doing that I'm gonna have to smash that plate in your face," he said suddenly.

Stacy glanced up from her plate, raising an eyebrow.

"Violent," she quipped with a laugh. "What am I doing?"

Chris sent her a look. He reached across the table and pulled the utensil from her hand, tossing it down on her napkin.

"That," he motioned to her wrist. "Pushing the food from one side to the other won't make it disappear."

At that point, Stacy knew that Chris was catching on to her. She knew she couldn't sneak a damn thing by him. She sighed, picking her fork up again and resuming her activity. She just couldn't bring herself to eat. As hungry as she was when she left Shane's that morning, she lost her appetite when a young, married couple was seated at the table next to them.

"Sorry," she shrugged, shooting her glance over to the other table. They looked so happy.

"Stacy… why aren't you eating?" he asked. Since she wasn't taking his subtle hints, he decided to just be direct. He knew something was wrong. It was just a matter of getting her to talk.

"I'm just not hungry. I'm not really feeling well, Chris," she said flatly, taking a small sip of her iced tea. "Maybe I'm coming down with one of those bugs that make you lose your appetite."

Chris snorted at her. No illness in the world could thwart that appetite. This was a woman who made him drive to a McDonald's at one in the morning for a Big Mac and fries while she had the flu. The fact that she was lying almost offended him. She knew him better than that.

"You've been 'coming down with something' for weeks now. That's your excuse for everything. If somethin's goin' on, just tell me. That's the point of doing this every month," he encouraged. "You'll feel better if you do."

Stacy's stomach dropped, and she was surprised she didn't scream. She wanted to tell Chris about Shane. She had wanted to for four years. He was the only one whose opinion truly mattered to her, but that fact alone was why she hesitated. How would he react? She couldn't handle seeing the disappointment in his eyes. It was too late to tell him… to tell anyone.

"It's the truth, Chris," she said, her eyes casting downward. "I've just felt exhausted and crappy lately. Maybe I got mono."

Chris laughed, "How high school of you. Besides, who exactly have you been kissing?"

Stacy's jaw dropped in mock offense at what she knew was a pot shot at her. _If you only knew, Jericho._ She shook her head, forcing her smile to come back.

"Watch what you're saying, Mr. I'm-Having-A-Dry-Spell," she quipped, pointing a finger at him. "It's not like you've been gettin' any action, either."

"Touché," Chris replied, with a shameful grin. "Well, I keep askin' ya out, Keibs, and ya keep turnin' me down."

Stacy giggled, shaking her head.

"That's because you cut your hair, and you need to be punished," she said, wrinkling her nose in distaste. She had made it no secret that she was not a fan of his shorter hair.

Stacy unconsciously stuffed a piece of food in her mouth, and it did not go unnoticed by Chris. When she was happy, she ate. When she was unhappy, she shoved her food around with a fork. He wouldn't pressure her anymore about it at breakfast, but he was determined to get to the bottom of what was bothering her.

* * *

She was tired of being the other woman. She had denied the title for years, even after Shane told her about Marissa. But it was the truth. All she was to him was the secret girlfriend, the one nobody could ever know about. And despite how much he claimed to love her, Stacy was beginning to doubt he'd ever leave his wife, or even come clean about the affair to her. 

Being second in his life when she put him first was painful. But Stacy knew she couldn't leave him. He made her happy, happier than any man she ever met had. Every doubt she had about his intentions disappeared when they were locked away in a hotel suite. There was nothing but love in his eyes when he looked at her.

Maybe that was why she was so torn. Shane didn't treat her or their relationship like an extramarital affair. He treated her like _she_ was the wife. She just couldn't figure out why he wouldn't come clean. He had to be tired of living a double life… she knew doing so sucked the energy right out of her.

"_So, I was thinking," Stacy said, plopping down on the couch beside him. Shane tossed his arm around her shoulder, eyeing her curiously. "Why don't you come to Baltimore with me this weekend?"_

_She flashed him a bright smile, but it faded when he gaze fell. His eyes cast down; Shane stared at the floor, tracing the pattern on the carpet._

"_I… I don't know, Stace…" he said, a nervous stutter in his voice._

_Stacy raised an eyebrow, "I'm not asking you to come meet my parents or anything." She giggled. "Just figured it'd be nice to spend the weekend at my place. You've been so busy lately, don't you think you need a break?"_

_Without tearing his eyes from the floor, Shane replied, "I can't, Stacy. I just can't make it."_

"_Do you have to work?" she asked him curiously. Shane shook his head, leaving her puzzled. Then she giggled, "Oh, I get it. You're spending the weekend when your other girlfriend, huh?"_

_Her laughter faded when the color drained from his face. He shifted off the couch, kneeling in front of her. He placed his hands on her thighs, and her gaze fell. This couldn't be good._

"_There's something about I need to tell you," he said, gripping her legs tightly. "Somethin' I should've told you from the beginning."_

_Stacy closed her eyes, exhaling slowly. A sinking feeling filled the pit of her stomach._

"…_There's someone else, isn't there?" she asked fearfully._

_Shane sighed, lifting his head to look at her. It was time he told her the truth, no matter how much it would hurt both of them._

"_Yeah…" he began, swallowing hard. "My wife."_


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews, you have no idea how much it means! In the next few chapters I'm going to try and get more of Shane's feelings out there, since right it's basically all been from Stacy's POV. Hope ya like it!**

**Chapter 5**  
"_Excuse me?" Stacy mouthed, her voice almost inaudible. Her eyes grew wide, and her jaw hung open. "Did you just say… you're married?"_

_Shane's heart sank as he looked at her. She was so pale, she actually looked sicker than he felt. Now he remembered why he kept putting off telling her for so long. He didn't want to see her like this, and know that it was his fault._

"_Stacy, I don't even know what to say… I'm _so_ sorry for keeping this from you," he said, his voice and eyes wracked with guilt. "But I…"_

"_Let me get this straight," Stacy said, as though she had trouble processing his words. "You have a wife at home… and you didn't bother to tell me?"_

_Lowering his gaze to the floor, Shane nodded shamefully. Stacy let out a disgusted gasp, prying his hands off of her. She kicked herself away from him, moving to the far end of the couch._

"_Please, Stacy, you have to understand," he began, though he knew any defense he offered would be weak at best. "When I met you, my intentions were not for this to happen. You were such a nice girl, I knew we could be friends. And then you kissed me, and I just…"_

"_Fuck you," Stacy spat. She knew exactly where this was headed, and she would not stand for it. She would not take the blame for his infidelity. "Don't you dare pin this on me, you cheating bastard." She rose from the couch, staring down at him with a cold, yet heartbroken glare. "It has to end, Shane… now. I won't be your whore."_

"_It's not like that!" Shane insisted. He rose from the floor, but did not approach her. "My wife and I haven't been the same for years. I found something in you that I just can't turn away from."_

_He daringly reached for her hand, but she snatched it away. Taking a step further from him, she moved out of his reach._

"_Oh, please. I don't wanna hear that 'my wife doesn't understand me and you do' crap. I know better than to buy that," Stacy informed him._

_Shane sighed, throwing himself down on the couch. He had backed himself into a corner. He knew he could not buy his way out of this jam. His material wealth did not impress Stacy in the least._

"_Whether you believe this or not, I feel like a new man when I'm with you," he told her sincerely. "You can't deny that there's something between us. Something real."_

_Stacy snorted, standing her ground. His feelings were no more real than the false ones he held for his wife. She couldn't fall in love with a cheater. No, she'd hold her head high and walk away, right out the door. She was no man's – not even a McMahon's – toy. She'd just cut things off, and move on with her life…_

Of course, she didn't move on. She barely made it out the door that afternoon. Stacy knew that by this point, she'd never leave Shane. But what was worse, was that it appeared that _he_ would never leave his wife. She was trapped, doomed to be his secret lover for the rest of her life. She loved him with all her heart, but the constant inner battle with her conscience was wearing her down. She began to think that _she_ was the meaning of the term 'prisoner of love'.

* * *

"So, is this what you do all day? Sit at the nice, big oak desk and pretend to read scripts?"

Dave's eyes widened innocently as Stephanie sent him a death glare. He hoped she knew he was only teasing her. He knew how hard she worked.

"Someone wants to sleep on the couch tonight," she warned dangerously.

Dave held back a laugh and threw his hands up in retreat. He knew better than to push her buttons any further. A McMahon always made good on their threats, and he didn't particularly like sleeping on hotel couches.

"I'm just kiddin', sweetheart," he assured her with a smile. "I know you're workin' hard… I only said it 'cause I've been in here for an hour and you haven't even looked at those papers."

Stephanie pursed her lips together, shaking her head.

"For your information, I'm waiting for Shane to come by to go over them with me," she explained. "That's why I asked you to stop here… to help pass the time."

A suggestive look flashed through Dave's eyes, and he rose from the plush leather couch. He sauntered over to his girlfriend's desk, stopping behind her chair. Placing his hands on her shoulders, his head swooped down.

"I can think of a few ways to pass the time," he said huskily, pressing his lips to her neck.

Stephanie smiled, but after letting his lips linger on her skin for a moment longer, she pushed him away. She spun her chair so that she was facing him, shaking her head.

"There's an image I'm sure Shane would _love_ to have burned in his mind," she laughed.

Dave sighed, conceding with a nod. He grabbed a nearby chair and pulled it up beside hers. He sat next to her, resting his head on the corner of her desk. The couple drifted into silence, and Stephanie picked up one of the papers from the stack before.

"Dave?" she spoke after a few minutes.

Dave lifted his head, craning his neck to look at her.

"Hmm?" he mumbled, sitting up in his seat.

"I'm starting to worry about Stacy," she said, her blue eyes filling with concern. "She's been so out of it lately…"

"She said she hasn't been feelin' well," Dave reminded her, crossing his arms in front of him. "Maybe the schedule's gettin' to her. She hasn't had time off in years, ya know? Maybe she's burnt out."

Stephanie nodded, but her gaze was skeptical. She had seen wrestlers get burnt out plenty of times before. This was not a case of Stacy being exhausted.

"I guess that could be it, but it doesn't seem like it," she shook her head. "She's not tired-looking. Hell, she doesn't even look sick half the time she's complainin' about not feelin' well. She just looks flat out unhappy."

Dave shrugged his shoulders. He had noticed a change in Stacy's behavior as well, but he didn't know what to amount it to. He was just a guy… he didn't know how to gauge what was wrong with a woman.

"Well, I don't know what's wrong with her, but Chris hasn't shut up about it. Every time I see him lately he's talkin' about her. This mornin' he said she wouldn't eat when they were at breakfast," he said, recalling a conversation he had with Chris when they arrived to the arena. "What could she possibly have to be unhappy about?"

It was Stephanie's turn to shrug, "I don't know, Dave. All I know is something is terribly wrong. She's my best friend… I feel like I should be doing something. But she won't open up, so how can I?"

Dave sighed, placing a hand on her knee. He gave it a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

"Just keep doin' what you're doin'. You pester her enough, she might open her mouth," he said. That was, after all, how he got her to talk when she was mad at him. Persistence was key. "And don't stress yourself over it. If she doesn't wanna talk, there's not much you can do."

"You're right," Stephanie said with a nod. She reached down and placed her hand over his. "It's just disheartening. Stacy's the last person you'd picture being depressed, but the girl hasn't been happy for a long time…"

* * *

"Somethin' wrong, boss?"

Shane jumped at the sound of a voice calling from behind him. He stepped away from the door he was leaning to, turning around to see a confused Trish Stratus standing behind him. He carefully shook his head.

"No, nothing at all, Trish," he said, though his pale skin and wide eyes said otherwise. "Ya need somethin'?"

The blonde haired woman cocked an eyebrow, but then she nodded.

"Actually, yeah. Think you could point me in the direction of the women's locker room? I'm directionally challenged today," she said with a giggle.

Shane laughed weakly, and pointed down the hall. Trish nodded and smiled a thank you, and he struggled to give her one in response. After she hustled off, he sighed loudly, leaning against the wall. He had arrived at Stephanie's office minutes before… just in time to hear her voice her concerns over Stacy. Instead of barging in during the middle of her conversation, he listened from the outside. What he heard broke his heart.

How could she be unhappy? He hadn't noticed a change in her behavior at all. If anything, lately she seemed to be even more happy then usual when they were together. His heart sank… this was all his fault. Everything about their situation was his fault.

He couldn't stand the thought that he was hurting her. Or the fact that she chose not to mention it to him. She used to tell him everything. How could he not pick up on the fact that she was so unhappy?

With another loud sigh, Shane started to walk away. He had to find her. His meeting with Stephanie could wait.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: First of all, I'm alive. And I apologize soo much for not having updated ANYTHING in just about forever. I've been busy, I've been lazy, I've been unmotivated, you know the deal. Thank you guys for still reviewing this story even thoughit hasn't been touched... you have no idea how much it motivated me to update again.**

**Hopefully this chapter was worth the wait. I can't say for sure when I'll update again, but I guarantee you if I see some nice reviews it will be a LOT sooner then 5 months. **

Chapter 6  
From the moment Shane pulled her out of the locker room, Stacy knew it had to be for something of dire importance. He wouldn't risk barging into the locker room and receiving curious stares from her peers just to chat.

The walk to his office was completely silent, which did not set her mind at ease. Once inside, Shane darted his head out to the hall, checking to see if anyone was lingering around. When he was satisfied that the coast was clear, he closed the door and turned towards her. His heart shattered almost instantly as she stared at him with painful uncertainty. It was so clear now, the anxiety in her eyes. How had he not seen it before?

Before thinking it through, Shane did the only thing he knew would comfort her. He put his hands on her waist and kissed her hard, not stopping when Stacy threw her arms around his neck in response. Like it always had, the kiss turned hot fast, and suddenly he found his back against the door, her hips nudging his. Just as he was about to cave and let his inhibitions take over, he felt her sigh into his mouth. He gently pushed her away, his forehead wrinkling in a frown.

"Why didn't you tell me you were unhappy?" he asked bluntly.

Stacy's eyes widened just slightly. She turned her back to him and walked over to the couch, sinking into the cushion with another sigh. She remained silent, and Shane's heart fell.

"Stace?" he urged her, his arms crossing in front of him.

"It's not you," she assured him, though her gaze fell to the floor. His arms dropped to his thighs, and Shane shook his head. He strode over to her, sitting by her side. His eyes coaxed her to speak, but she hesitated. "Well, not you specifically. It's just that... well, I... it's just hard, ya know? I feel like... I feel like I'm going nowhere fast."

Shane's brow raised curiously, and he rested back more comfortably in his seat. His eyes still locked on her, he placed his hand on her knee, giving it an encouraging squeeze. When she understood that he was waiting for her to speak, she took a deep breath.

"I just feel like I'm in a rut, Shane. All the lying, the sneaking around, it's exhausting. And for what? For a relationship that's never going to be out in the open? For something that I can't even share with my closest friends?" She spoke quietly, but her voice was sharp with angst. "This is too much for me."

"Stacy, you know how I feel about you," Shane said, his tone calm despite the panic his mind was trapped in. "You know I love you..."

"Maybe that's not enough!" Stacy cried unexpectedly. She jumped up from her seat, surprising Shane as she stormed across the room and stared back at him. "Maybe just knowing isn't enough, Shane. Maybe I can't deal with the fact that no matter how many times you tell me that, nothing will _ever_ change. Our relationship will never go any farther then it already has, and that's not far enough. I can't put up with this for the rest of my life! I can't be second best forever."

"You _aren't_." He sighed, raking his fingers through his short hair. Guilt pressed down on him like a giant boulder, pinning him to the couch. "You have to understand that you are the most important person in my life. I'm trapped, Stace, and I don't know what to do about it. But I do know that I need this. Stacy, I need _you_."

Her arms crossed firmly in front of her, and she snorted at him. All of her sadness and anxiety boiled over into unadulterated anger. Her eyes turned icy, and she stared holes in him.

"That is the most asinine thing I have _ever_ heard. Shane, if you think for one second I'm going to buy into this crap forever, you're dead wrong. Stop fucking with my head." The bitterness of her words ripped at Shane's chest. They'd had fights about this before. But never had she raised her voice. Never had she stared at him like that, with cold, unfeeling eyes. "I want to know _now_, Shane. How long is this going to continue before you grow some balls and own up to it? To us? I want to know, Shane. When are you going to leave her for me?"

Her hands shifted to her hips as she awaited his answer. His eyes drifted away from hers, down her long legs and to the floor, where they settled. A nauseous feeling rose in his stomach.

"If I get divorced now, she'll wipe me dry. I'll have nothing left," he said weakly. And Stacy guessed by his pale color that he knew he should have kept his mouth shut.

"This is about money?" she asked, her words dripping with disgust. She shook her head in disbelief, anger being replaced by a brief moment of sorrow. "You greedy son of a bitch. Can't spare a penny for love, right? You are just like your father, Shane."

"Don't compare me to him," Shane bit back, a hint of frustration in his tone. "It's... it's much more complicated then that, you know that."

Stacy remained silent for what seemed like hours. Shane closed his eyes, trying to control his breaths as he listened to the seconds tick away on his Rolex. When she heaved a shaky sigh, he opened his eyes and looked up at her. The already destroyed pieces of his heart broke again as a stray tear slipped from her eye. He never wanted this to happen.

He rose from the couch, prepared to move toward her. But Stacy threw a hand in the air, stopping him after just one step. She approached him, placing a hand on his shoulder. Her wide, tear-brimmed doe eyes stabbed at him.

"Well then, I guess I'll make it real simple for you," she spoke, exhausted. "It's over."

She stepped away from him, and Shane grabbed her arm in a final effort to keep her with him. He clung to her arm desperately, pulling her back to him.

"Stacy, please..."

She shook her head. "I'm sorry, Shane. I can't let you do this to me any longer..."

She pulled away again... and this time, he let her go.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Thank you all for your continued support of this story. I know I don't update half as much as I should, but I'm trying. Hopefully you enjoy the chapter... now's the time where you should start telling me who you'd rather see Stacy end up with, because as of right now, I have no solid plans for the end of this story.**

Chapter 7  
Stress was tearing him apart. Shane squinted at himself as he stood before the bathroom mirror of his hotel room, his nose wrinkling in disgust at his appearance. Dark circles formed around his weary eyes. His entire body ached. And as he stared harder, shock swept through him... gray hair. He'd noticed them before, but only sparingly. They became more evenly dispersed through his thick, dark hair, and he frowned deeply. He was too young for this. Too young for _gray_ hair.

Then again, maybe he wasn't. Maybe it wasn't age that made him young, but _Stacy_. Maybe it was being with her that made him feel so young, so complete. Without her, he was just a man, mindlessly trudging through a career and a marriage that seemed to go in endless circles. Just an old man.

He'd aged dramatically since she left. He aged dramatically _because_ she left. Without her, who was there to impress? He saw no reason to take care of his appearance, to get out of bed and comb his hair in the morning. No reason to get out of bed at all.

The worst part of it all was that everyone noticed. Everyone saw the paleness of his complexion, the way his body sagged with exhaustion. He played it off as an illness, telling everyone from his sister to the ring crew that he'd come down with something serious. Maybe something incurable. And everyone believed him. People offered to take him to a hospital, to make him soup... they bought him get-well-soon cards. And it was all for a fucking lie. A rumor he started to keep people off his back. Guilt coursed through him whenever someone sent a concerned look his way. He started to understand Stacy's angst.

He couldn't keep this up much longer. He needed her back. Life without her was completely miserable, and he was just not ready to let her go. His heart ached to talk to her, for just five minutes to explain how much she meant to him. Five minutes to beg her to take him back. So many times over the past week, he came within seconds of jumping out of bed and running to her room. But something always held him back. Maybe it was his brain.

In his mind he knew he could never have her back. The unraveling of their relationship was his own doing, and he knew it. After all the shit he drug her through, he couldn't show up at her door and beg for mercy. Not because he couldn't handle the rejection, or because he couldn't stand to see a door slammed in his face. He took advantage of her for four _years_. No woman deserved that. Especially not a woman who willingly put up with it.

As he twisted the faucet to the left, Shane sighed heavily. He barely felt the icy water running through his fingers. He splashed the water on to his face, never feeling the chill. He left the bathroom without drying his face, collapsing face down onto the bed. The air deflated from his chest as he realized it was time to let go. Stacy was gone. For good.

--------------------------------------------------------

He wondered if she was unaware that he could see everything she was doing. As Chris stood in the mirror buttoning his shirt, he carefully monitored Stacy. She tore his hotel room apart looking for a magazine to read, and the thing was sitting closed on her lap. Her legs were tucked under her as she stared down at the cover. A faraway look was in her eyes. Again.

With a sigh, he finished off the top button and strolled over to her, taking a seat beside him. She didn't budge. He inhaled sharply.

"X-ray vision, right?" he inquired, his eyebrows raising slightly.

Stacy cocked her head to the side, squinting at him curiously.

"What?"

"You're reading that magazine without even opening it. X-ray vision, that's how you do it. I used to have X-ray vision when I was a kid…" he trailed off, a fond twinkle in his eye.

"Chris, you're making no sense," Stacy said, incredibly confused.

His eyes grew serious. "Neither are you," he said pointedly. Again her head tilted to the side. "You burst in here all energetic and desperate for some celeb gossip and now all of a sudden you're sitting here like a damn lump."

Stacy was quick to respond, "I was just thinking about something."

"Really…" he began skeptically. "All you've been doing lately is thinking about 'something,' Stace. So either tell me what the something is or shut the hell up, cause frankly all this bipolar shit just isn't workin' for me."

Stacy almost laughed. Partly because of how un-serious his tone got as the statement progressed, and partly because he expected her to tell him what was wrong. Tell him? She could never tell him. Or anyone, for that matter.

"Don't you worry about me," she told him with a smile. "I can handle myself."

Her smile faded when she saw him frown. His eyes lowered to the floor, and she could see an uneasiness building in him.

Chris felt his heart fall slightly. As time passed, she seemed to become more upset. And what was worse, she seemed to trust him less and less. She wasn't talking to him anymore. She used to tell him everything. He knew something was seriously wrong. Why wouldn't she just tell him?

"Stacy, why don't you talk to me anymore?" he asked her, the softness in his voice surprising her. "I used to have to beg you to shut up, and lately I can barely drag one word answers out of you. I know something's wrong, just _talk_ to me."

She bit her lip, folding her hands together. She wanted to tell him. Every single time she saw him she wanted to throw herself at him and tell him everything. Chris was her best friend, after all. He'd understand.

"It... it's not that easy to talk about," she began, her voice trembling noticeably. As she took a deep breath, Chris placed his hand on her knee.

"I'd rather you choke through an explanation then have you keep lying to me about it," he told her. "I don't like being lied to."

Her stomach dropped through her knees. She'd been lying to him for four years. How could she tell him that? Suddenly she felt very uneasy, and she brushed his hand away. She couldn't tell him. Now wasn't the time.

"It's hard to put it into words without getting a massive headache, Chris," she said truthfully, placing a tired hand over her forehead. "But trust me... when I decide I want to talk about it, you'll be the first person I come to. Like always."

It was hard for him to argue with her. Especially when she flashed him a genuine grin. He sighed, reclining back in retreat. She'd talk when she was ready. Now just wasn't the time.

"Fine," he caved. "But I will not let you mope around on my couch, either." He rose from the couch, extending his hand to her. "Come on, Keibs, we're goin' out."

She didn't want to go. She wanted to lay on the couch and stare at the wall. A part of her missed Shane, and another part of her wanted revenge. Her vengeful side wanted to get out and have a great time because she knew he wouldn't be. Her vengeful side wanted to party.

She smiled again and reached for his hand, "Ya know what, I'd love to."


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Since it's been awhile since I last updated, I made this chapter considerably longer then my normal chapters. Hope you enjoy! And as always, thanks for the reviews. You know how much they motivate me.  
**  
Chapter 8  
Any signs of Stacy's anxieties were completely washed away by midnight. A brilliant smile replaced her somber gaze, and laughter replaced her sighs. And as Chris watched her from his bar stool, he couldn't have been happier that he had invited her out.

"Your little friend stole my girlfriend," Dave quipped from beside him.

Chris pulled his gaze away, turning to face him. His eyes rolled when Dave scowled at him. He glanced back out to the dance floor, a smile touching his lips. Stacy and Stephanie were the center of attention, dancing like crazy as a fast-paced hip hop song blared through the bar's speakers. _That_ was the Stacy he knew.

"Get over it," Chris retorted, sipping his beer. "Your ass wouldn't be out there anyway."

Dave nodded, "Yeah well, that's 'cause I hate to dance." He turned his back to the dance floor and the girls, and picked up the bottle he was nursing.

"Hate to dance… or _can't_ dance?" Chris inquired, a very Jericho-like gleam in his crystal eyes.

Dave lifted his head from his beer. A wave of laughter erupted from his throat as he shook his head.

"You kiddin' me?" he challenged Chris boldly. His head shook again. "I could out-dance you any night of the fuckin' week, man."

Dave's confident claim amused Chris so much he nearly spit his beer all over the bar top. Wiping a stray blonde hair away from his face, he rested his elbow on the back of his barstool, his brow raising suggestively. He didn't know what Dave was smoking, but there was no way in hell he could dance better than him. He grinned wildly, dollar signs flashing through his eyes.

"Wanna bet?" he asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

Dave gave him a grunt, shaking his head in disbelief. Chris never ceased to amaze him. Rich as hell, and yet he was _always_ looking to make a cheap buck.

"No thanks," he declined the offer. "I'm not prancin' around a dance floor with you just to prove a point."

Chris laughed, sipping his beer, "No balls." He smiled to himself, knowing full well his snide remark would rile his friend up. As he anticipated, Dave slammed his beer down. Determination flared through his eyes.

"Fine," he quipped. "A hundred bucks."

Chris gave him a satisfied nod, and both men rose from their seats. Chris eagerly bounded towards the dance floor, Dave sauntering a few steps behind him. His eyes briefly scanned the room in search of a way out. He knew damn well Chris was a better dancer then him. He couldn't dance for shit. He just wanted the loud-mouthed Canadian to shut the hell up. Now he was about to lose a hundred bucks to an obnoxious wannabe rock star.

The solution to his dance floor dilemma came moments later, as the seat of people crammed together suddenly split. Stephanie emerged from the crowd, dragging an extremely un-sober looking Stacy with her. Dave and Chris paused, and when the two ladies approached them, it became clear why Stephanie was dragging the taller woman.

"She's done," Stephanie said, giggling as she tightened her grasp on Stacy's tiny waist. "She's out there twirling in circles after she downed all sorts of liquor and I don't want her pukin' all over someone." The brunette gasped when a slender finger pressed against her lips, smearing gloss onto her chin.

"You're so negative!" Stacy hiccupped, pulling her hand away from Stephanie's face. "I was fine. I coulda got that guy's number if you didn't yank me outta there." When her bottom lip jutted out in an exaggerated pout, both Dave and Stephanie laughed.

"Stace, drunk is cute. Wasted outta your mind is embarrassing," Stephanie tried her best to explain, giving Stacy a pat on the back. Her attention focused on the men beside them. "We should get her back to the hotel."

Dave nodded and reached for Stacy's free arm, but Chris cut him off. He pulled Stacy to him, stumbling a bit as she happily threw her weight at him.

"I'll take her. You guys should stay," he insisted, linking his arm around her middle.

Stephanie glanced at her boyfriend and was met with an indifferent shrug. She looked back at Chris, knowing that he could handle the simple task of returning Stacy to her hotel room. Placing her arm around his neck, Chris mouthed a goodbye to their friends.

"Come on, Keibs, lets get you outta here," he called over the loud music. The pair headed for the door, guided by Chris's steps.

"Chrissy," Stacy slurred. Chris laughed, until he saw the rather ill expression on her pretty face. "I don't feel so good…"

Chris smirked, but his pace quickened a little. "You're gonna be _fun_ to deal with tomorrow."

Back inside, Dave slung his arm over Stephanie's shoulder, watching the pair of blondes disappear. He smiled, relieved that Chris had seemingly forgotten their little wager. Stephanie caught his gaze, and she poked him in the gut, staring up at him curiously.

"I bet Jericho a hundred bucks that I could out-dance him," he answered her unspoken question. Her response was an abrupt, sardonic laugh. "What?" His eyes lit up with amusement.

Stephanie shook her head, "A dance contest? Come on, babe, you couldn't two step to save your life. And _everyone_ can two step."

Removing his arm from around her, he stepped back, feigning offense to her comment.

"Damn, Steph, I know I can't dance," he admitted. "You don't gotta be so mean about it." She elbowed his ribcage playfully, rising to her toes to place a kiss on his cheek. Linking her fingers with his, she led him towards the bar. "Haven't you been drinkin' long enough?" he joked, pressing his free hand to the small of her back.

Stephanie whipped her head around, her eyes narrowing. "Are you kidding? I spent the entire night making sure Stace didn't fall on her ass. I barely drank a thing," she told him. She paused for a moment, licking her parched lips. "All this babysitting shit made me thirsty. I need a martini."

Dave pulled her chair out and smiled. He flagged down the nearest bartender, ordering their drinks.

* * *

"Shane, you can't let Dad get to you. He's impossible to please sometimes," Stephanie reasoned. Though they were supposed to be discussing creative and financial issues, she had spent the last half hour listening to her brother gripe about his latest rift with Vince.

"Yeah, unless your name's Stephanie…" Shane spat bitterly.

Anger quickly flushed Stephanie's face. He knew better then to bring up such a touchy subject. The two of them were never in agreement where their father was concerned, and she accepted that they never would be. Unfortunately, Shane couldn't seem to let it go.

"We've discussed that a million times…" she warned, her voice coming dangerously close to a hiss.

Shane's expression didn't change. His scowl deepened, his forehead wrinkling.

"Easy for you to say, Steph. I mean, you are the Chosen One," he muttered, his eyes drifting to the floor.

"Ya know what, Shane, grow the fuck up." Stephanie threw her pen down violently, and then rested her hands flat on the desk. "If you're really that pissed that Daddy isn't happy with the website, then grow a pair and tell _him_ that. I'm not gonna be your verbal punching bag."

Surprise flooded Shane's face following his sister's outburst. He exhaled heavily, sinking back into his chair. Rubbing a hand over his tired eyes, he sighed.

"Sorry," he mumbled, his cheeks flushing slightly. "I know this has nothing to do with you. It's just…" He trailed off, allowing a yawn to slip from his mouth.

Stephanie took notice of Shane's yawn, and of the dark circles that formed under his eyes. She frowned, noting that his irritability had become a regular occurrence as of late.

"Shane, I know this isn't about Dad making some rude comment to you," she said carefully. When he lifted his eyes from the carpet, she continued. "What's goin' on with you? You've been so out of it… I know something's up."

Despite a strong effort to prevent it, Shane's jaw hung open. He wanted so terribly to open up to Stephanie. He wanted to explain his heartache and tell her why he hadn't slept or eaten in a week. But he couldn't. He couldn't put the weight of his deeds on her shoulders.

"I'm real burnt out, Steph," he said. Stephanie gave him a hard look. She knew he was lying, but his expressive eyes begged her to overlook that fact. "I think I need a vacation."

_You are such a fuckin' liar,_ Stephanie thought as she stared him down. It almost offended her that Shane would feed her such a bullshit lie. Still, as much as it pained her, she did the only thing she could do. She accepted his response with an understanding nod.

"I'll talk to Dad," she assured him, mustering up a crooked smile.

Shane nodded graciously. A knock at the door interrupted the tense silence that rapidly engulfed the room.

"Babe, do you have any…" Dave's deep voice carried across the office, but faded the moment he noticed that Stephanie was not alone. It didn't take very long for him to note the uncomfortable glanced being tossed between the McMahon siblings. "…Oh. Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt."

He backed his way out the door, but Stephanie waved him back in.

"It's nothing important," she insisted when he shot her a skeptical look. "What do you need?"

Dave hesitated, his feet remaining firmly planted in the carpet. Only when Shane turned and nodded the okay did he step into the room.

"Just wonderin' if you had any Advil," Dave explained, the smile returning to his face. "Stace isn't takin' the hangover thing too well. She's drivin' me and Chris up a wall. Well, I think he likes it… but it's annoying the hell out of me."

Stephanie cracked a smile as well, shaking her head. "I told her to call it quits after the fifth shot she took, but she just wouldn't listen," she laughed as she slid her chair away from the desk, reaching into the bag she tossed on the floor. "I didn't wanna party anyway," she mumbled into her bag.

"Oh come on, Steph, I practically had to sedate you when you heard she was comin', you were so damn excited," he reminded her, rolling his eyes.

"Well, it was nice to see her get out and have fun for once. I haven't seen her smile so much in the longest time," she happily admitted. Leaning over further, she dug through the mess of items in her highly unorganized bag. "I know they're in here somewhere…"

Dave grinned as he watched Stephanie frantically searching her belongings. Realizing the task of locating aspirin in that heap could take awhile, he pulled a chair up beside Shane and plopped down in it.

"Too bad she won't remember any of it. That girl cannot hold her liquor," he said with a hearty laugh, clips of Stacy stumbling off the dance floor fresh in his mind. "Word of advice," he said, nudging Shane's shoulder. "If you're ever out drinkin' with Keibler, stop her after three. That's her max."

Shane smiled weakly. "I… I'll keep that in mind," he said, quickly darting his head away. _You're wrong,_ the voice in his head sounded off. _Three for tequila, four for daiquiris. On a long night out, she can handle six Coronas._ He bit his lip, battling a strong urge to correct Dave's error. Shane glanced back at him, noticing the strange look he was being given. He looked away again, fidgeting in his chair. He could feel the cold sweat soaking his back. _Come on, Steph…_

"Here it is!" she exclaimed, pills rattling as she pulled the bottle from the bottom of her bag. Rising from her seat, she brought the aspirin to Dave, who had also stood.

"Thanks sweetheart," he said, dropping a quick kiss on her lips. He took the Advil with one hand, patting Shane's shoulder with the other. "See ya later, man."

Shane waved, all of a sudden feeling dizzy. She was already going out again? Not only that, she was _enjoying_ herself? He rarely got out of bed, and on the instances where he was forced to, he did so miserably. Could she be moving on already? So soon?

By the time Stephanie reached her desk and was seated again, she noticed that Shane too made a run for the door. "Where are you going?" she called after him, concern flooding her features. "Shane…"

His skin was ghostly pale as he stared helplessly back at her. He shrugged his shoulders, gripping the doorknob.

"Tell Dad I'm starting my vacation right away," he said. And with that, he exited the room, leaving his wide eyed sister behind.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Sorry for the delay in updates, as always. I'm trying my hardest to get stuff out regularly. But thank you for your support of this story, I really appreciate it! Hope you enjoy this chapter!  
**

Chapter 9  
"We've been doing this way too long," Stacy commented as she and Chris were seated at a booth lodged in the corner of a small diner. "We're just way too fuckin' predictable," she added in response to Chris's blank stare.

Chris scoffed at her remark. "Predictable?" he repeated as though she spoke in a foreign language. "I fly by the seat of my pants. I'm the king of spontaneity, baby."

Brown eyes narrowed at him as Stacy shook her head. Chris was about as spontaneous as their planned monthly breakfast.

"Let me guess, Mr. Unpredictable will be ordering scrambled eggs and wheat toast, like always," she said, eyeing him pointedly.

Chris reclined in his seat, arms crossing in front of him. "Just for that, I'm ordering an omelette," he said proudly. Stacy's I-don't-believe-you gaze held strong. Soon after, he muttered, "...Or maybe white toast."

They fell into conversation and soon found stacked plates in front of him - Chris's containing eggs and wheat toast, of course. In the midst of their discussion on who would win a fight between Vince McMahon and Eric Bischoff, the empty side of Stacy's seat was suddenly hit with a thud. Dave collapsed in the booth beside her, a pout on his face.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Chris asked.

"I knew you guys were doin' the breakfast club shit so I figured you'd be here," Dave replied nonchalantly, nodding hello to Stacy, whose eyes lit up at his statement.

"See? You are so damn predictable!" she cried, grinning widely. "Anyway, Dave," she continued, facing him. "Now that you're here, settle a debate for us. Who'd win in a fight: Vince, or Bischoff?"

Dave seriously considered the question, half-consciously wondering if these were really topics of discussion for the pair.

"Vince, hands down," he concluded with a nod. "He's got those jacked arms."

Chris ignored Stacy's satisfied smile, scowling at Dave. "What the fuck are you here for anyway?"

"Steph's mad at me because _I _forgot to remind her to book _her_ flight to Milwaukee," he explained. "She wouldn't eat with me. And I'm hungry."

Dave eyed both plates, reaching immediately for Chris's toast. His hand was swiftly slapped away. He laughed it off and turned to Stacy, who offered him the rest of her bacon. He gratefully accepted.

"You're good to have around, Keibs. You gotta start spendin' more time with us," he told her with a smile.

Stacy returned his grin. For the first time in four years, she didn't have to lie. There was no need to make excuses for not hanging out with her friends so that she could spend time with a secret boyfriend. No more sneaking around in fear of being caught.

"Yeah," she said happily. "Hopefully we can hang out a lot more often now. Ya know, now that I'm feeling better." Okay, one more lie. It couldn't hurt.

"You'll save me a lot of nights on the couch." Dave's comment was accompanied by a laugh, but Stacy got the feeling he wasn't kidding. "Steph gets sick of dealing with me and Chris at once. Havin' you with us might lower her stress levels or something."

"She's been extra McMahon-ish the past few days," Chris re-entered the conversation, shoveling in a bite of food. "WHat's her deal?"

Dave shrugged, "The usual work problems, I guess." He paused, but then something else came to his mind. "Oh, and somethin' with Shane. She's upset 'cause he took an emergency vacation and wouldn't tell her what it was all about."

Stacy's stomach dropped - and so did her fork, landing with a loud clink on the table. Two pairs of eyes shifted towards her, and her jaw hung open. Her gaze dropped to her plate, but she still felt them staring holes into her. The guilt that she had been temporarily relieved of came rushing back, churning in her stomach.

"You okay?" Chris asked, concern flooding his eyes.

Taking a slow, deep breath, Stacy nodded. "Yeah, I just... I think I had a bad piece of bacon or something..." she said, watching as Dave made a face and pushed the plate away.

_Okay, two lies. Two lies in one morning._

Her heart sank as she began to realize that things hadn't really changed at all...

* * *

After spending a few days at his Manhattan home, the uneasiness in Shane's stomach was finally beginning to settle. He was not in the least bit over Stacy, nor did he feel good about the demise of their relationship. But he was getting to a point where he could look at his wife without an overbearing sense of guilt.

He relaxed into the recliner in his living room, tilting his head towards the television. This was exactly what he needed to give his mind a rest. A few weeks of relaxation and some serious ESPN time.

"Shane?" he could hear Marissa calling him from the next room. His head turned and he saw her approaching, an open beer in her hand. She approached him slowly, offering the drink over to him. He accepted it with a smile, taking a long, slow sip. He watched as she took a seat on the couch beside him and then turned his attention back to the TV. After only a few seconds, it became clear that her attention was not focused on the Yankees game.

Shifting in his seat, he turned to face her. "What's up?" he asked, eyeing her carefully.

Marissa wrinkled her forehead, struggling to find the right words to kick-start the conversation. After debating, she finally settled on a simple, "Is everything okay?"

Shane frowned. He expected the question from her. It was highly rare of him to take a planned vacation, let alone a spur of the moment one. He knew she'd have concerns. But after a few days passed with the topic untouched, he thought he was in the clear.

"Everything's fine," he replied casually, though doing so ripped his insides apart. She didn't look convinced. He sighed, continuing further, "Look, I know it's not like me to just not go to work for two weeks, but I needed a break. It's getting too hectic there, and I just wanted to step aside for a little. It's nothin' major."

Marissa shook her head. She knew he was lying. "Shane, I talked to Stephanie," she told him. His eyes widened slightly, and it didn't go unnoticed. "If you were just burnt out from work, she wouldn't call and tell me how worried she was about you." His gaze dropped as he found himself at a loss for words. "If something's going on, I want you to tell me. That's what I'm here for."

As he looked as his beautiful, naive wife, his heart fell. It was so much easier to live with himself when he only saw her every other weekend. Looking her in the eye and lying to her was unbearable.

"Marissa, I..." he began, unsure of where his statement was headed. His heart screamed at him to tell her about Stacy. _Just because the affair is over doesn't take away from the fact that she has a right to know_. "It's just that I..." _If you tell her now, you'll break her heart and lose everything you own,_ he scolded himself. _It's over. Leave it in the past._ "I'm just tired and worn out and sick of working with my dad. I need to get away from him for a little, that's all."

Marissa stared at him skeptically. She knew he was lying, but for the moment, she accepted his answer. Rising from her seat, she headed towards the kitchen, a terribly uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach.


End file.
